


Decompression Chamber

by star_ship



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: A Little Horny, Alcohol, Angst, Canon Non-Binary Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 01:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18022115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/star_ship/pseuds/star_ship
Summary: Hollis turns to Jake to help them destress after the attack on the Hornet's Nest.





	Decompression Chamber

**Author's Note:**

> A couple little things: this fic is canon compliant up through Episode 23 of Amnesty. Also, it's a little unclear how old the Hornets are, but I'm running with them ranging from early twentites to early thirties, with Jake about 24 and Hollis maybe 27 or 28. There's a chance I might build off this eventually if canon leaves me room and inspiration, and there will maybe be little drabbles on my Tumblr in the future, but for now this is a stand-alone. Enjoy!

This place has always been just the right kind of cluttered that it feels cozy: things everywhere, a little disorganized, but clean and comfortable. The dark wood paneling is barely visible under all the posters and magazine pages and tapestries, hippy-dippy stuff and fun patterned fabric alike, making a collage around the walls with a few snow- and skateboard decks mounted beside a tall, narrow bookshelf. The shelves are stuffed full with magazines and the complete original Goosebump's series, along with a few contemporary classics like Cat's Cradle and biographies of mountaineers and explorers. In the corner where the bed is pushed against the wall, two large celestial tapestries are overlaid with an interlacing double spiral of fairy lights, one strand a cool white and the other a deep, saturated blue. A small lamp on the bedside table casts a warm, soft sphere around itself, and across the room on the desk by the bookshelf, a quietly whirring black plastic ball projects shifting white snowflakes like constellations across the walls and ceiling, their light mingling with the dimly glowing plastic stars sticky-tacked above the bed.

Jake comes home and doesn't remember leaving the ambient lights on, though maybe he did, he does sometimes, maybe he just forgot. The last few days he's been distracted and foggy and generally out of it, his thoughts constantly returning to his old friends’ deaths, so maybe he'd left his lights on, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't have left music going at a low volume from the speakers on his desk, and he's definitely sure he hasn't listened to this playlist in ages--the one Hollis made him when they’d started dating--and as he's putting all this together in the few seconds it takes him to get into his room and close the door, his eyes adjust, and there's Hollis sitting on his bed, and his heart does about eight backflips before it faceplants somewhere down next to his spleen. Or at least, wherever a spleen might be in a human.

It takes him a fraction of a second seeing how haggard and exhausted Hollis looks to decide to play it cool, slipping off his bright green and aqua windbreaker and hanging it over the footboard post of his bed, leaning on it and regarding Hollis as if he'd been expecting them. That is to say, he definitely hadn't, that is to say, he hasn't expected to see them in the last two years since they split up and he was pretty sure they'd hate him forever. Running into them a few months ago on Mount Kepler had tossed him around quite a bit, and here they are again, sitting on the edge of his bed with a vodka bottle clutched around the neck. It's about three-fourths empty and Jake wonders how full it was when they got started. He hadn't seen their bike in the parking lot, he wonders if they walked all the way from their place across town.

“Hey, Hol.” He keeps his tone neutral, not sure what they want, what they're looking for, sympathy or distraction.

Hollis doesn't look up from staring at the floor but offers a “hey” before taking a healthy swig from the bottle and handing it to Jake. He takes it and feigns a drink, grimacing at even the little bit that gets into his mouth. He really doesn't like hard liquor, but they look like they could use the solidarity right now. Carefully, he sits down on the bed next to them and holds onto the vodka for a while, waiting quietly, patiently for Hollis to talk. After a few long breaths, they finally look up briefly and catch his eye before looking down again, but even one brief look breaks Jake's heart. They're hurting bad.

“I spent all morning at the funeral home,” they start in a whisper, then clear their throat and sit up a little straighter. “Finishing things up for tomorrow. Everybody in the Hornets makes advanced directives, I made it part of the membership process. Stunts can go bad, y'know. So I've been trying to take care of stuff for the families. We won't even get the bodies back until the cops are done with ‘em, but both of them wanted no-fuss cremations, anyway, so we're doing a joint service, like a memorial.”

Jake cautiously rests a hand on Hollis’ shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Yeah, I saw the obit, it was… nice. Respectful, y'know.”

Hollis flashes him a quick, tight-lipped grin. “It's the least I could do. Their parents are so messed up about it… at least this one thing they don't have to worry about, having to decide what they would have wanted, what their last wishes would have been. I've got everybody on a watch rotation, riding around town looking out for this… this thing, and told everyone between shifts to just get some rest. And I tried to follow my own advice, but being at home right now sucks.” Hollis and about a dozen of the other Hornets rent an old farmhouse by the river, and Jake is pretty sure at least one of the deceased had been a resident. He can't imagine trying to decompress in a space now littered with memory triggers of someone you'd watched die, someone you cared about.

“I thought about getting a hotel room in the next town over, I even went to see my fucking sister.” Hollis lets out a dry laugh and looks up at Jake again. “I… I haven't slept yet, Jake. I haven't _cried_ yet. I just… there's been so much to do that needed doing and after this morning there wasn't anything left to distract me from it, but I can't find anywhere I feel like I can just put it down. I know I need to, I _want_ to, but I can't find anywhere that's… safe enough. And I've thought of everywhere I might be able to stop and let myself finally grieve for a while and rest, but…” Hollis leans back on their hands and looks up at the glow-in-the-dark constellations and slowly drifting snowflakes. “This place has always had such a good vibe. The more I thought about somewhere I'd feel safe, the more I just kept coming back to here, in your room... curled up in bed with you.”

They look at him for a long, long moment and it's just Hollis, scared and tired and raw, not the hard, guarded stare of the Hornets leader or the bitter glare of an ex, just Hollis like Jake best remembers them. And then it's gone again and their brows knit down over their nose and they stand up, grabbing their phone and their hat off the nightstand. “I'm sorry, fuck, I don't know what I was thinking, I shouldn't have barged in on you like this and just expect--”

Jake catches their wrist, shaking his head. “No, it's okay! Don't go, you need this right now.” Hollis plops back down onto the bed without much convincing, the vulnerability of being here already starting to loosen up the dammed emotions. Jake gently guides them to his shoulder, awkwardly putting the vodka bottle down at the foot of the bed in the same motion. “I told you I'd always be here if you ever really need me and I meant that.” Hollis resists weakly for a moment, but gives in, and the moment they are finally curled up against him and feel his arms wrap around their back, all the awful hurt they've been stuffing into the back of their mind in favor of other priorities rips through the bottom of its “Shit Nobody Wants to Think About” bag, and they bury their face in Jake's neck and sob.

It's ragged and hysterical at first, they choke on their own spit at one point and Jake beats a fist against their back to help them clear it out but they never stop crying. Jake holds onto them tightly, one hand at the back of the neck under their ponytail, the other rubbing soothing circles under their jacket. When the first huge wave finally crest, Hollis pulls away enough to grab a tissue and blow their nose, and Jake takes the break to kick off his shoes and help Hollis out of their jacket. They lose their boots and belt, too, and crawl deeper into Jake's bed, a sea of soft flannel tie-dye sheets and a dozen pillows that always smell clean and like fresh air and pine trees. Jake turns off the lamp on the nightstand and grabs a bottle of water from his mini-fridge under the desk, slipping under the covers and offering the water to Hollis. They sit up and drain it before laying back down, falling into another crying jag.

Hollis rolls into him and pulls him close, Jake winding his arms around them, cheek rested in their hair. He can feel that his shirt is getting damp with tears and snot and drool but he doesn't care. It'll wash out. It reminds him maybe too much of when Hollis’ dad had passed, they had laid in bed for days crying and Jake had taken care of them, had held them and cried with them and back then he had kissed them, too, but it wouldn't be appropriate right now, even as badly as the urge to kiss them flares up inside him. It's a lot of emotion all stirred together but if he kisses them now it would be about him and what Hollis needs is some selfish time to focus on themself and their grief and exhaustion, and Jake won't spoil that. The crying jags come like tides, fading and rushing back, and in the lulls, Hollis talks a little about what happened, a little about the two Hornets they lost, a little about nothing in particular. They stay tucked up against him, hands rubbing up and down his arms or fingers making circles on the small of his back under his shirt. Jake plays absentmindedly with the end of their long ponytail and tangles his legs with theirs and it feels like they've been suspended in time, shifted back a couple years to when they would lay in his bed and kiss and talk and make their own little bubble together away from the world, and even though it's been built out of necessity, out of the awful despair and trauma of the attack, it's still so familiar, and the familiarity is at once comforting and bittersweet.

The crying has ebbed again and this time Hollis is quiet, their breath going slow and even, and Jake thinks _good, they need the rest_ , before he remembers and shakes them back to wakefulness. “Hey, binder off.” His old job, binder reminder. He hopes they've gotten better at self-reminders for it, or have someone else to nag them about it now. He tries not to think about the fact that if they haven't slept in a few days, they probably haven't taken it off in a few days either. Hollis is too tired to argue, sitting up and pulling their shirt off to peel out of the tight vest. Jake covers his eyes for their modesty until they put their t-shirt back on and lay down beside him again, snuggling close.

“S'not like you haven't seen it all before,” they chide him, already drifting back to sleep. Jake lays awake listening to their slow, even sleep breath for a while, staring at the ceiling and pressing little kisses to the top of their head. He has to remind himself, this doesn't mean anything. Hollis is distraught and needed someone to turn to, and when this is over they'll probably go back to being estranged exes, but as he falls asleep with Hollis’ arms around him, he can't help but dream about all the old good times, and hope that maybe they'll have that again someday, even if the end of it had been his fault.

Morning comes like old times, too, light streaming in through the blinds and across the bed and Jake must not be the only one feeling like he's slipped back in time. Hollis rolls closer to Jake and nuzzles him awake and when he blinks bleary-eyed at them and croaks out a quiet “good morning”, they meet it with a soft kiss. It catches him off guard but he doesn't push them away, kissing them back against his better judgment, not letting himself think about how complicated all this is right now and indulging worry free for just a while, gasping softly when Hollis rolls him onto his back and stretches out on top of him. Jake is average height and slender, but Hollis has always made him feel downright short and scrawny with their tall, solid build, but he's never been able to be mad about it considering how good their weight feels on top of him.

He lets out a soft whine despite himself as their body over his and their mouth at his jaw bring back vivid, graphic memories of less clothes and his legs wrapped around their hips, one hand curled into the hem of their binder and the other in their hair, holding on for dear life while Hollis works him over, rough and loud and delicious. Hollis kisses him again, like they're searching for something, and Jake pulls them down over him, rocking his hips up against theirs as they start to move against him in slow, grinding circles, but he can't hold the nagging reality back much longer. They broke up two years ago, their friends are dead, and depending on how full that bottle had been, Hollis might still be a little drunk, and those are all factors that makes this too screwy for Jake, even if they feel good, even if he's missed them.

He moves his hands to their shoulders and pushes them back gently. “Wait… Hol, what about Keith?”

In an instant Hollis’ whole aura snaps shut. They sneer down at him, “What _about_ Keith?” before climbing off Jake and out of bed, shoving on their boots. “I gotta go, I need to get home and shower before the funeral.” They see the bottle on the floor and pick it up, putting it on the nightstand, their anger fading as they remind themself they came to Jake drunk and expecting him to accommodate. They have no right to be mad he wouldn't go along with some distraction sex, too. It would have been a bad idea, anyway. They point at the bottle. “You can have the rest of that, for your troubles.”

“Uh, okay, yeah. Thanks.” It's awkward now but at least it doesn't feel so tense. He wonders if he's wrong about Hollis and Keith, maybe it was a false rumor, or an old one and they're not together anymore, but he doesn't press, sitting up in bed on his knees wearing his comforter like a cloak, watching Hollis get dressed. They dig through the sheets for their binder and turn away to tug it on and this time Jake doesn't look away, frowning at the scrapes and bruises across their back. Maybe it's from biking or skateboarding, but it looks like fighting. The thrill-seeking had become dull with tricks and ramps and stunts and the Hornets had been born to look for bigger adrenaline payouts with a lot more direct disdain for authority, and Jake just hadn't been able to follow. He'd hoped the whole thing would blow over eventually, but from the bruises, it seems like it's just getting worse. He'd noticed last night, it looks like they have a busted lip that's almost healed, too.

Jake watches them take down their hair and shake it out before putting it back up in a fresh ponytail and pulling it through the back of their oil-stained old ball cap, tugging the bill low down over their eyes. As they toss their jacket on and check their pockets for keys, phone, wallet, they ask in a deceptively nonchalant tone, “Jake, why'd you dump me?”

Jake flinches. What a question. He can't deny they deserve an answer, though. He'd never really given them one when they split, just let their quarreling spiral until he'd had enough, but that wasn't really it. There was another reason, a definite choice he'd made before he let their fights go unresolved. Hollis fidgets with their belt buckle in the awkward silence and Jake thinks back to before all the arguing, before an anger moved into Hollis’ heart and they started pushing boundaries and putting themself in real danger. Their dad had died and they didn't have any answers, were left wondering what had happened and why, trying to make sense of the loss like logic could salve the grief. And with the attack now, he could only imagine they’re looking for answers again as much as revenge. Maybe he can give them at least one closed door.

“Well,” he starts, fiddling nervously with the silver ring around his thumb. “Things changed a lot when you started talking about forming the Hornets, and… _you_ changed. And I hated it because I understood why but it was like you shut me out and we started drifting apart, and then with the Hornets and all the rebel-without-a-cause junk… you were seeking out attention I didn't want any part of, Hol. I would have done just about anything for you back then, you know that. But I didn't wanna put myself in that kind of danger just for a thrill, and I couldn't watch you keep trying to find new ways to burn the world, y'know? You were going after stunts not to challenge your ability or because they'd look cool, but just because they were dangerous, and every time I brought up being concerned, we'd fight. I'm sorry… it just got too heavy for me. It wasn't an easy decision.”

Hollis stuffs their hands into their pockets and sucks the inside of their cheek. “I did shut you out, that's fair. I was… I was going through a lot and I didn't understand it enough to share it with you.” They want to be vengeful and say how losing their best friend and partner hadn't helped, that getting dumped while they were already mixed up and acting out and doing stupid dangerous shit hadn't exactly been a wakeup call but rather a catalyst deeper into their anger that they'd been building high, thick walls around, but they at least have enough restraint to leave that unsaid. It isn't helpful and it isn't really Jake's fault. They can't very well expect him to have stayed if he was unhappy just because Hollis needed him. Another selfish part of them leaves it unsaid because they don't want him to know how important he'd been to them, how hard it had really been to get over it.

“So I guess we're never gonna give this thing another shot, huh?” They try to play it off like a joke, try to make it seem like they don't care one way or another but it leaves them both in an awkward silence of mutually wishing things could have turned out differently.

Jake sighs softly, his stomach in lead knots. They'd never really gone through this when he broke it off, he'd been so angry and didn't want to drag things out when he'd decided he was done that they'd essentially cut one another out of their lives, but there had been so much between them once upon a time. It feels awful to know Hollis still feels something other than contempt for him, because he knows--though he'd never say it--that he still loves them, but especially now, being with them would only be a risk. What a terrible realization for them both, to know that the core of how they've always felt for each other is still so solid, but everything else makes them being together a bad idea. “Look, I can only imagine how bad you wanna catch this thing, how much you feel like revenge will help you or whatever, but this monster hunting shit, Hol? You're in way over your head. You don't even really know what you're looking for! How much revenge are you gonna get out of being dead?”

Hollis’ brow quirks at “monster hunting”. They hadn't mentioned anything about what Keith had told them, though maybe Jake only means the thing that killed their friends, but it seems like he's letting on something else. “How do you know about that?”

“Huh?” Jake tries to feign innocence, wondering where he's slipped up. He knew Hollis knew, of course, Aubrey had told him the situation, but maybe he'd made himself sound a little too in the loop. His feigned innocence unfortunately doesn't work on Hollis.

“What do you know, Jake?” They take a step forward and their jaw is clenched tightly. “That thing ran back to here, it came right behind the Lodge, and I know at least one resident here that's keeping secrets about it. Don't you lie to me, too, Jake. Maybe I don't warrant your trust anymore, but they were your friends, too. If you know what's going on, tell me. They deserve-- their families deserve to know what really happened to them! No one believes us, nobody really believes what we saw, Jake, but if you know anything that might help their parents understand why their fucking kids are dead, please, tell me now, Jake.” Their voice trembles a little and they take another step forward. “I know what it's like to lose somebody and not know why, and it'll haunt you for the rest of your life. Don't let them live with that. They've already been through enough.”

Jake stammers, not sure how to lie, trying to backpedal and cover his bases but the stalling alone gives him away, paints him starkly with suspicion.

Hollis is practically leaning over the bed at him now, raising their voice. “What aren't you telling me?”

Jake's heart lurches to see so much anger in Hollis’ face, scared how hard they'll push him for this and scared, too, for the danger they're willing to put themself in despite knowing what may as well be nothing about what they're up against. He wonders maybe if they knew even some of the truth it might at least lend them some caution, give them a little reason to work with instead of raw hate and vengeance and throwing themself into harm's way, probably even death. He'd wanted to tell them the truth for a long time when they were together, especially once the relationship had become sexual, he never felt quite right about keeping secrets when they were so intimate, but it was more than his own secret to tell and selfishly, he didn't want to risk losing Hollis back then. Hollis shouts at him again, “What are you hiding?!” and in an instant, Jake makes a decision before he can think it through, and once made, he can't take it back.

He takes his ring off.

There is no transformation, really. Slender, blond-haired human Jake, with his baby face and freckles, flips like a switch into his Sylvan form, his real body, sitting face to face with Hollis and watching the shock and horror dawn on them, frozen, their eyes wild with fear. Jake waits it out, letting them look at him. Short, buff-colored fur covers his face and body, darker at his waist and down onto his legs, and darker on his hands, only two rounded fingers and a thumb with thick palm pads like a dog's and dull, short claws for nails. Hidden under the blanket as he kneels on the bed, his feet taper down into the cloven hooves of a deer. Ivory antlers arch up from his head, a small rack of seven points, and on either side of them are long, thin ears, which for now are pressed down fearfully against either side of his face. His eyes are large and dark with no whites visible, his snout short with a light colored nose and split upper lip over large, flat teeth. He has long whiskers which sprout from his cheeks, also currently flexed downward in fear and a little shame, waiting for Hollis to react.

When they finally do, it is in an explosion, so fast and intense Jake lets out a sharp whine of fright. Hollis grabs him by the front of his shirt and shoves their red, rage-contorted face so close into his the bill of their hat presses up against Jake's forehead, and he can feel the tip of their butterfly knife at his throat. “What? Are you???” Hollis’ voice is thin and rasping, overwhelmed and so scared and furious and confused all at once they are shaking and crying, hot tears streaming down their face. Jake tries to lean back and away from them out of instinct but Hollis yanks him back, smacking his head into the stiff bill of their hat again. “Tell me!!!”

“I-I…” Jake has to swallow to get his voice to work. “Uh, I guess you'd probably call me like a woodland sprite? Maybe a jackalope but I think that’s differe--”

Hollis cuts him off, not really listening to his answer, realizing they hadn't asked what they really wanted to know. “Do you know what did this? Did _you_ do this?!”

“No! No! I swear, I don't know!” He forces himself not to fight away from them, holding his ground and surrendering himself to whatever Hollis might do. He's thankful to feel their knife pull away from his skin, hearing it click shut, but he braces himself for a punch, sure they'll beat him up. He would probably turn to violence in their situation, too, but Hollis stands up straight again and lets go of his shirt, wiping at their eyes.

“What the fuck _do_ you know, Jake?” They look like they've had the wind knocked out of them, the growing web of knowledge of things that had been impossible to them a week ago spreading, leaving them overwhelmed and reeling.

Jake purses his mouth and sinks in on himself, shrugging. “Not a lot? These things aren't always the same. The thing that attacked you guys, I don't know what it is and it's probably one of a kind. It's complicated, Hol--”

“Then uncomplicate it. Why are these things coming here? Why isn't anyone doing more to stop it?”

Jake sighs again and wrings his hands. “I really just don't know! That's why it's so hard to deal with them, we don't really understand them.”

Hollis processes this, deciding to believe him. It tracks with what little Duck had told them. They gesture loosely at Jake's strange form, some bizarre bipedal deer-rabbit they can't decide is interesting or disgusting. Despite how foreign his appearance is to them, though, the posture, his voice, something in his eyes, it's unquestionably Jake, keeping the swell of fear and hate and shock from taking over them too much. Reason is beginning to win out and they start to calm down, some tension leaving their body. “Why didn't you trust me?”

The sick feeling of heartache mixes with anxiety, leaving Jake dry-mouthed and on the verge of tears. “I wanted to. I tried so many times to work up the nerve to tell you, but it's not just my secret, Hol. There's lots of us and our secrecy is the only protection we really have. If I'd told you about me, I'd have been telling you about all the rest of us, a whole world of people, and I just… I couldn't do that. I'm so sorry. But I'm trusting you now, Hollis. With my life. Please trust me with yours, please believe me that you can't go up against this on your own.”

Hollis crosses their arms tightly across their chest, thinking it over. “Do you think Duck and them might take us on? As help?”

“I don't know, but I think at this point that might be our best bet of dealing with these things. I don't wanna put you in harm's way, but… when have I ever been able to talk you out of something you'd set your mind to?” He puts the ring back on and sees Hollis visibly relax even more as he changes back. “I'll talk to them. I don't know if they'll listen to me, but I'll try. And if I can convince them to share what they know with you, I hope you'll understand. Why I couldn't tell you before, I mean. It's… it's just a lot, Hol.”

Hollis nods to themself for a while, untangling this new information and the opportunity, filing it away and shoving all the anxiety and awful looming terror away under a big boulder of denial to process later, if at all. After a long pause, they step to the edge of the bed and gently cup Jake's face in both hands, rubbing his cheek with a thumb, looking at him now familiar again. Jake lifts his hands and loops his fingers loosely around Hollis’ wrists, his eyes fluttering shut when they lean in and tilt their head, kissing him softly. They pull back slightly and mumble against his mouth, “get me a meeting”, before kissing him again, then finally pulling away.

“I gotta go.” Jake almost protests but then remembers about the funeral. Hollis opens the door and takes one step out into the bright hallway before turning back to him. “Jake?” Silhouetted in the threshold, he can't read the expression on their face. “Don't come.”

The door closes behind them, taking the shaft of bright light that had flowed into the room with them, leaving Jake in his dim space with his colored and moving lights that usually feels so cozy and relaxing, and now feels dark, stuffy, depressing, ominous. The tension between him and Hollis alone is enough to put him out of sorts, but now there's more serious matters layered tightly into it. Maybe it would be a good thing if the Hornets get absorbed into the Pine Guard, lending some muscle and more eyes looking out for the abominations, but there are risks with each new person that learns the truth, learns about Sylvain. There are dangers every time the secrecy of his home world and the castaways here at the lodge is chipped away, and he wonders just how much he has already risked finally revealing himself to Hollis.

They had trusted each other once, and he wants to be confident that he can still trust them now. He hopes for their sake, their safety, even their life, that they trust _him_. The abominations are getting stronger, deadlier, stranger, and Jake has a bad feeling that that trend won’t change anytime soon.


End file.
